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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22665475">Feed Your Head</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanadka/pseuds/kanadka'>kanadka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spooks | MI-5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Episode: s08e04, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 16:00:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,662</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22665475</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanadka/pseuds/kanadka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternative missing scenes from Season 8, Episode 4. Lucas does not give Oleg Darshavin the address to his flat by writing it on a postcard. He traces it out on his bare skin.</p><p>
  <i>When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Go ask Alice, I think she'll know</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oleg Darshavin/Lucas North</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box - Round 5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Feed Your Head</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/spring_gloom/gifts">spring_gloom</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"There's just one more question I've got," says Harry in his debrief. "How did he know your address, if you didn't tell him?"</p><p>"Well, I imagine he got it from the FSB," lies Lucas.</p><p>--</p><p>Not far from the Piccadilly Waterstones was a stand selling postcards, journals, that sort of thing. Some flowers. They too had yellow tulips for sale, wilting at the edges. Oleg had bought him nicer ones, Lucas noted. Fresh ones. He must have gone to a proper shop, spent money on that after he'd escaped the immigration detention centre. Money he didn't really have. Well, money he claimed not to have, because he had come to Lucas asking for money.</p><p>Lucas plucked up one of the postcards. He studied it—a bland image of Stonehenge on a cloudy day—waited 'til the shopkeeper wasn't looking (but Oleg would be, Oleg always was) and jotted down an address. He replaced it in the stand and walked off.</p><p>The address was not to his flat.</p><p>--</p><p>"So, then," Harry continues. "Operating under that assumption, you knew he must have been working with the FSB."</p><p>"Or that he'd tapped into their information base somehow." It's a reasonable thing Oleg might do, thinks Lucas, because it's what Lucas would do.</p><p>"To do that, he'd need to have been in England first. He couldn't've fled first and then come here acting like he wanted a fresh start. </p><p>"He didn't."</p><p>Harry never looks very happy, but now he's glowering. "That's how you sold him to us," he snaps.</p><p>--</p><p>"Oleg Darshavin," murmured Lucas. He tried to get the warmth out of his voice, though he was not entirely sure that met with any success. He remembered the torture, remembered the pain, tried to lose himself in the flashbacks ... but that simply didn't help anymore. Oleg's fault, primarily—he'd formed different connections with pain in Lucas' mind. The least Lucas could do now was get his breathing under control.</p><p>"Russian military officer," he continued. "Decorated for bravery in Afghanistan. His reward was to be given the role of FSB chief interrogator at the Lushanka Interrogation Camp, 2005 to the present day..."</p><p>Neither Harry nor Ros looked happy about it.</p><p>"Lushanka was surrounded by marshland," Lucas added. "He used to take me for walks between sessions. I told him about the Thames Estuary, I used go there with my father on holiday, and ... he joked that one day we'd go birdwatching together by the Tilbury Water Tower." God, Lucas, he told himself, you could sound a little more upset about it all. "If Oleg Darshavin has come to the UK without FSB approval -"</p><p>"We don't know that he's here without approval," said Harry.</p><p>Blast. Harry could not know that. Harry could not be allowed to assume, unless it fed into the game... "But if he has?" insisted Lucas.</p><p>"Harry, if Darshavin <em>is</em> chief interrogator, he would have interrogated Russian dissidents, Chechen terrorists, al-Qaeda suspects... He'd be our most valuable intelligence catch in 20 years," agreed Ros. Logic Harry couldn't fault—<em>wouldn't</em> fault.</p><p>Lucas stayed quiet and waited for Harry to put the next pieces together.</p><p>--</p><p>"I implied it," admits Lucas. "I wanted you to think he was worthy of help. If you knew what he's done -"</p><p>"Tortured you four years," says Harry.</p><p>"- you wouldn't be as amenable."</p><p>"We weren't in the end. He never got his fresh start. He went right back to where he came from." Harry is vindicated and not at all sorry.</p><p>He shakes his head, frowning. "He never left. I don't think <em>you</em> think he ever left. I don't think either of us believed he was intent on leaving the FSB."</p><p>Lucas should have told this to Harry. To make it clear to Harry that Lucas knew. To make it clear to Harry that Lucas was trustworthy. That Lucas <em>is</em> trustworthy.</p><p>Instead, Lucas realises, he kept Oleg's games for himself.</p><p>--</p><p>"The best way to skirt suspicion about being a double agent," said Oleg—casually, in passing, as though they were two friends, just two spies having come in from the cold, just for a moment, enjoying the outdoors, instead of what it really was: a man rewarding his prisoner for particularly good behaviour—"is to actually <em>be</em> that double agent. You must commit to the role."</p><p>The sun was low in the skies in the afternoon outside of Lushanka. Not far from the gates. It was a bit funny how Oleg didn't bother to shackle his wrists anymore and yet Lucas did not think seriously of running away.</p><p>"I don't think I can do that," Lucas said.</p><p>"Oh, I think you can do many things if you try," said Oleg, light-hearted. He leaned towards Lucas on the park bench and kissed him on the mouth.</p><p>--</p><p>"So," says Harry. A muscle twitches in his jaw; his words are leaving a bitter flavour on his tongue. "First you let an American agent into your flat. Then a Russian. Care to take a third, have yourself a party? You'll need a bigger bed."</p><p>"I'm not -" Lucas stammers, "it, it's not like that with Oleg."</p><p>That's the first real lie he's told, and it's filthy how easy it slips from him. And he's positive Harry sees through it.</p><p>--</p><p>The address was to a club. In broad daylight, clubs like these continued to operate, with fewer bouncers and fewer clientele. Indeed, in many major cities the clubs didn't really sleep, they only revolved around different hours, different times. The trick was selecting the right one to ensure it was busy enough. The only one available was a gay club.</p><p>Well, that wasn't quite true, there had been plenty of others, but Lucas knew this one would be busier at this time of day. It was their best chance. And if it happened to knock Oleg a little off his guard, so much the better.</p><p>Lucas sat down and ordered a drink. It hadn't even yet arrived before Oleg stood behind him. Tall, strong, sturdy. He was blocking Lucas' escape with his body but that was not all he was doing with it. So much for knocking him off his guard. Oleg seemed prepared, seemed like he'd expected this. I can't be so easy for him, thought Lucas.</p><p>Oleg leaned forward. "You meet me here, at a bar?" he asked, in Lucas' comm-less ear.</p><p>Lucas turned, drink forgotten, face-to-face with Oleg, all 15 stone of him.</p><p>"They would think to find me here," he replied. "But it's not the first location they'd try."</p><p>"Then they don't know you like I know you," said Oleg. He smirked and leaned in further to reach behind Lucas for his drink, which he plucked up off the bar counter and swigged down in a single swallow. When he spoke again his breath smelled like booze. Doubly intoxicating.</p><p>"Dance with me," blurted Lucas. "And make it look good."</p><p>Behind them, a Paul Oakenfold remix folded into a trance cover of an old pop song. From childhood, from Lucas' youth, from before Lushanka.</p><p>Oleg nodded.</p><p>They were playing a game of trust with each other, Lucas knew, as Oleg stepped into his space and reached around him with one arm. His thighs brushed up against Lucas' own. Oleg pulled him in closer.</p><p>There were many levels to this game. The first was 'pretend to betray my own kind'. Oleg had already done that when pretending to defect from the FSB; Lucas had mirrored it by going off comms and losing his own people.</p><p>The next level was 'pretend to betray <em>you</em>'.</p><p>Once they got past that level, of course, Lucas could have any answers he liked. Oleg would be forthcoming. Giving. But until then ... "The trick is always knowing if we're past that level of mistrust," said Lucas. "I will be, if you are. Are you?"</p><p>"You would not let me so close if I weren't," said Oleg. He shifted his stance—it was hardly dancing so much as an embrace with a rhythm, swaying together in too close proximity, though the rest of the dance floor was gyrations aplenty—but it was enough to brush his groin up against Lucas'. He fought to control his breathing.</p><p>No, then. They were not quite there yet. But Oleg's answer was not why. It was because Oleg knew that Lucas <em>would</em> absolutely let him that close, because Lucas had before, and Lucas probably would again, and Oleg knew that Lucas knew that. This was yet another clue that they were just not safe enough. Not yet. It was unlikely one of his watchers was here. Oleg could lose a tail just as well as Lucas, and he was acting a bit too well the part for an FSB agent's ease, as he slipped a hand below Lucas' waist to cup his rear. Or perhaps he was giving them something to watch.</p><p>"Wouldn't I?" asked Lucas.</p><p>Which was why Lucas could not trust anything Oleg said right now, because it was potentially part of that level of the game. He put his hands on Oleg's shirt and undid the top three buttons to expose his chest. With a finger he idly traced out a message on his skin. Somewhere beneath that flesh was a heart, which Lucas knew that on rare occasions Oleg used. Here, he thought, remembering: I used to fantasise about stabbing him right here. He traced out letters and numbers: an address.</p><p>"Then I taught you well," sneered Oleg.</p><p>"Let me show you what I've learnt," Lucas replied. He drew closer and put his mouth at Oleg's throat.</p><p>--</p><p>"You can't go off like that again," says Harry.</p><p>"I <em>had</em> to make it look like I was betraying you for him. That's how these games are played!" Harry should understand this.</p><p>Harry, evidently, disagrees. "You aren't a lone wolf operation!" he shouts. "Lucas, you have a Team. You have a superior to whom you are answerable! The next time you take off that comm, you're not getting it back, am I making myself clear?"</p><p>Lucas grinds his teeth. "Crystal."</p><p>"Now, I understand the game you tried to play. But if you'd approached me and told me in advance -"</p><p>This is really beyond the pale. "You think I'm still under his influence!" Lucas cried.</p><p>"You've given me little evidence to the contrary!"</p><p>"How was I supposed to convince you I'm not a double agent when that's part of the ploy I intended?"</p><p>"You weren't ready for it!"</p><p>"We had no time!" shouts Lucas. And who's Harry to say whether Lucas is ready or not?! "If this had happened six months from now, maybe I could've made a case. But Oleg didn't come six months from now, he came <em>this week</em>. That Sudanese operation was not six months from now, it was <em>today</em>. What was I to do? I can't fast track your confidence! That's built up -"</p><p>"Yes, over four years, I imagine," snaps Harry. "Like the four years you spent in Lushanka. Well, I certainly hope you don't expect me to employ his methods."</p><p>--</p><p>Another dance later and more necking than Lucas would prefer to think about, they left the club separately. Lucas ordered another drink for his own troubles, to calm his nerves and to regain some measure of control. He probably should have picked a different club. Picking this one sent a message: <em>I desperately want to trust you</em>. Sending a message to Oleg Darshavin was dangerous because any information he would exploit and use.</p><p>He saw not hide nor hair of Oleg when he stepped out back into daylight. He looked around—no tail, either. Then Harry and the team must have truly no idea where he was. CCTV all around him, but they would have far too many sources to wade through and no way to automatically detect his face. The joy of an inundation of information: it was everywhere, and sometimes you could make that work. Lucas did not keep his head down nor did he particularly stand out as he made his way home from the tube station.</p><p>--</p><p>"This isn't the last we'll see of Oleg," says Lucas.</p><p>"Certainly not," says Harry with a snort of a derisive laugh. "The question remains whether we can trust him."</p><p>"The question remains," says Lucas, "whether you can trust me."</p><p>Harry doesn't smile. "Quite," he says stiffly. </p><p>After all, the best way to play a double agent is to actually <em>be</em> one.</p><p>--</p><p>Oleg had known about Sarah, thought Lucas. He'd known the whole time. After all, Sarah did not exactly remove <em>all</em> traces of herself when she left in the mornings, and Oleg knew how Lucas slept. This bed did not look like it had been slept in by a single person. Lucas did not have long blonde hair that left the odd strand on the pillow. Oleg would have known just from the rumpling of the sheets that he'd had sex with her recently, too.</p><p>Lucas hadn't been counting on Oleg going straight to his flat to beat him there and wait for him. Oleg alone in his flat meant he had ample time to have a quick snoop around and see what he could. He could bug the place. He could leave a communicator there. One not for the group—one solely for Oleg himself. Horrifying to think about it... Oleg's voice in Lucas' ear whenever he pleased. The things he could make Lucas do.</p><p>Him going straight to the flat was an interesting move. (This is exactly what Oleg would do, thought Lucas. Use every scrap, every morsel of information, turn it over, work the man inside out until you've mapped every crevice. Was that justification for Lucas doing the same? Or was it Oleg's brilliant conditioning on him, years later an effect?) He wanted to trust me, thought Lucas. But something else was holding him back. All along there was a motive for this, there was a reason.</p><p>It could not be done to simply <em>hand over</em> a foreign intelligence agency information about a terror cell. They would want to know why you knew; and if they knew anything about the terror cell and their motivations and their origins, it would be further suspicious. And the MI:5 were not stupid, they could work that bit out.</p><p>Parts of the FSB helped train those rebels. The FSB were undoubtedly involved, and their actions had escalated elsewhere, and rather than send in their own men to eliminate a threat that had spilled over another country's borders, or be diplomatic and give information freely (Russia and the UK had never had such a special relationship), Darshavin's ploy was a fancy set-up toi take-down. He cast himself as a potential defector, he orchestrated a threat, and he did it to trade information the FSB had wanted to give away anyway. After all, if the Sudanese cell were allowed to execute their targets it would be a diplomatic nightmare for both Russia <em>and</em> the UK.</p><p>And if Harry had given him exactly what he had asked for, Oleg Darshavin could linger as long as he liked inside UK borders: the perfect double agent for the FSB. Either way, he got what he wanted.</p><p>And he'd <em>used</em> Lucas because he <em>knew</em> Lucas.</p><p>Which was why... he'd said what he'd said.</p><p>
  <em>I have something for you. Information. A covert meeting in Basel, Switzerland. Something you should be aware of...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A world summit of rogue intelligence. Agents from the West, even a Chinese presence.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Be careful who you trust.</em>
</p><p>--</p><p>"Why would he say that?" asks Lucas.</p><p>Harry shakes his head. "I have no idea," he says. "You get some rest."</p><p>But Lucas, in fact, already knows. That was truth. Because Oleg only gives truth when you're past the firewalls of all the levels of the game.</p><p>And his old torturer looked so wretchedly torn the moment that Lucas left him in the car. A solitary moment of earnestness.</p><p>Finally, thinks Lucas, it seems I've stabbed you in the heart.</p>
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